We all know (or have been told) that dreams are the representations of our thoughts, and that more often than not they are utterly and completely meaning less. They are just random things our subconscious cooks up, and they may or may not be inspired by our real lives. There are people, for example who dream about doing every-day stuff. Pretty exciting, huh? And then there are people who dream extraordinary things that should be movies, if they already aren’t, and somehow manage to make perfect sense. Like that guy and his wife who literally LIVED in their dream-world for AGES. Or that other girl who built a dream inside a dream (inside a dream, inside a dream).Oh, wait, that’s Inception! with Joe Gordon-Levitt and Leo DiCaprio and Ellen Page!
A lot of the dreams I remember are a mix of the two. Except, of course they don´t make any sense. Whatsoever.
Last night, for instance, I remember falling asleep while listening to The Smiths. In my dream I was in some stage thing, with a huge screen/wall in the back, and a SMITHS SONG WAS PLAYING. When I turned around, Morrissey was there, singing. THE MOZMAN HIMSELF. Next to him, Roger Waters, from Pink Floyd was, I don’t know, doing something. I think it was Roger Waters, because his face was a sign that said ROGER WATERS in big, bright letters. Then, Roger Waters and Morrissey Himself started singing some new kind of music… a cross between Progressive/Acid/Space/Psychedelic Rock (according to Wikipedia) and Indie Pop. Actually it just sounded like “Please, please, please Let Me Get What I Want” with spacey background vocals that said something like “Pink Floyd…The Wall…So EPIC”. I should say I’ve only ever seen Roger Waters’ face in an interview with 60 Minutes about his The Wall Tour, and I’ve only ever heard maybe five Pink FLoyd songs.
In what universe would that happen? How did Morrissey and Roger Waters ever end up in the same place? WHY WAS I THERE? HOW did I get there? ugh.
Then there was the time Death Cab For Cutie’s Ben Gibbard was sitting there in my living room. And apparently I was interviewing Ben Gibbard. In my Living Room. And Ben Gibbard was also singing. In My Living Room. “Monday Morning” and “I Will Follow You Into The Dark” and “Grapevine Fires” and “Expo ’86” all being sung by THE BENJAMIN GIBBARD in My Living Room. It was insane. I was fangirling in my sleep, and nearly rolled off my bed, and bumped into a duck wearing a suit. The Duck then chased me down the side of a Swamp, somewhere in the outskirts of Bree (Middle Earth…).
I am infinitely jealous of people like my sister that can have perfectly logical dreams that have nothing to do with going to the bathroom at a restaurant and bumping into Voldemort and The Silence. She doesn’t have to suffer in the morning with burning questions such as: ‘Why were Voldemort and The Silence IN THE LADIE’S ROOM?’. I hope any Neuro Scientists (Hi, Amy Farrah Fowler!!!) or Psychologists (Hello, Lancelot!) or Psychiatrists (Hello, you!) that happen to be reading this have any ideas to help me have NORMAL DREAMS.
However, if you happen to suggest I stop watching/reading/listening/obsessing over the stuff I dream about, I say NO CAN DO.
Ever had any strange dreams that’s baffled you more than Irene Adler baffled Sherlock Holmes *sighBenedictCumberbatchsigh*?
The Adorkable Timelord 